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For lunch,I picked a deli far enough from our building that I was unlikely to bump into anyone from work. I still didn’t have a quick way to explain my new situation. Paying for my sandwich, I fumbled my wallet. Luckily I noticed the yellow paper fall to the floor and picked it up. Losing Gramps’ note would really add to today’s shittiness.
I spent the next hour alternately worrying about how to explain my new position in the company and researching the top ten charities we donated to online. All the while, I downed water, baskets of French fries, and more Advil than the directions recommended.
Not a single one of the recipients featured our company name as a sponsor on their website. Either we were new entrants in giving to charities, or we hadn’t given enough to make a statement. That last option struck me as a waste of money—not that charitable giving wasn’t worthy in its own right, but if Dad’s objective was also to be recognized for our giving, we’d failed.
Back in my office, the grease, water, and pills had the intended effect of reducing the pain in my head to a dull throb. Again I lamented my stupidity. I had to be getting old if I needed this long to recover from a night out with the guys.
Reclining my chair and closing my eyes helped as I waited for my first appointment in this new position. Was I supposed to grill the Alex character when he arrived? Or them, if it was more than one person? I’d told Diane this would be like any other negotiation, but it wouldn’t be if I didn’t have a clear goal in mind. I always had a goal and a general plan prior to a meeting. But I was at a bit of a loss.Rudderlesswas the word that popped into my head.
Would the guy from the charity come with a request for a specific amount? That made the most sense to me—an amount higher than what we’d given last year.
I opened the file on the Three Sisters Fund that Zoe had kept and read each of the three pages. We’d given the same amount to them for three straight years. I stared until the words swam before my eyes. There was so much I didn’t know about this job.
I’d just have to wing it in this meeting, which was not my mode of operation. But it never paid to show your cards too early in a negotiation, or to set a low opening bid. So, yeah, they’d propose an increase and be happy with something less than that.
In every previous negotiation, we’d gotten something in return for what we gave. What did we get in a situation like this?
Diane knocked and then poked her head inside. “Your one o’clock is here.”
“Very good.” I closed the file marked Three Sisters Fund and slid it to the side, then stood and rounded the desk to greet my guest.
Diane opened the door wide.
A minor breeze could have knocked me over. She walked in—the girl who’d haunted my dreams years ago.
I slowly took her in, head to toe. The uncomfortable feeling that stirred in me yet again proved I’d never be over her.
Alexa Borelli wasn’t a teenage stick of a girl anymore—far from it. With long, curled blond hair that reminded me of a Hallmark Christmas movie and luscious curves filling out her dress, she looked like the wholesome girl next door, with an extra-big helping of sexy.
My gaze shifted to the entrancing green eyes I’d never forgotten. Like a black-magic curse, all the intelligent long words I’d ever learned left my head. “Hi?” I croaked. The last time I’d seen her hadn’t gone well.
She halted at the door, her mouth open. She looked as shocked as I felt. “Evan?”
CHAPTER2
Alexa
Holy shit on a cracker.A chill ran down my spine as glacial blue eyes raked over me, and I mean every single inch of me. Evan fucking McAllister, the Shark of Wall Street, wasn’t supposed to be here.
My meeting had been scheduled with Zoe Shorter, their VP of community outreach, and shoe fanatic. I’d worn these red-on-pink polka dot heels for her.
She was also another Alpha Kappa sister, and our sorority connection should have made this meeting one of my easiest. Instead, I stood with my mouth agape in front of the Shark of Wall Street.
I’d known going into the McAllister building could be a risk, but I’d double checked their company website. Evan was the executive VP of acquisitions, and a simple call to their main number had revealed his office was on the 26th floor. My meeting was on the 25th. I should have been safe.
After an awkward pause, Evan said, “It’s good to see you again.” His tone was tentative, signaling anything but pleasure at seeing me, and the feeling was mutual.
As he spoke, I challenged him, the way he had me, by scanning his frame and taking his measure. Obviously looks and personality didn’t have to match, because his broad shoulders, trim waist, and chiseled features belonged on a billboard I could salivate over, not on my enemy, not on one so evil.
We’d known each other in another life. We’d been teenage neighbors having a good time out in the Hamptons. Back then, I’d had a crush on the nice guy next door, who was three years older than me.
His current reputation as the Shark of Wall Street meant the nice guy next door had grown up to follow in his father’s footsteps, with the personality to match. My stomach soured. I hadn’t seen Evan since his father had bankrupted our family, and if this cause hadn’t been so important, I would have marched right out of here. On second thought, I would have asked for a cup of coffee so I’d have something to throw in his face before leaving.
It had destroyed Mom to lose the houses, the cars, everything—including most of her jewelry—just to survive.
We hated the injustice of it, but my sister Rachel and I had handled the shift from the Upper West Side with a house in the Hamptons to a tiny walk-up in Brooklyn that we rented from Uncle Luca. Rachel’s Toyota had taken the place of Mom and Dad’s two Jaguars.
Mom couldn’t deal with the way her old social circle treated her. None of her so-called friends even returned her calls after the financial implosion. It was as if without the expensive houses and cars, we didn’t matter anymore. The experience had sent her to seek solace at the bottom of a bottle—every damned bottle she could get her hands on.
